


Making it Up to You

by makingitwork



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: For Hannibal Will and Abigail, Happy Ending, M/M, Small Drabble, Spoilers, how season 3 should begin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2354030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Bedelia could never fill the gap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making it Up to You

_"You were supposed to leave."_

_"I wanted to surprise you. I guess...in a way, you wanted to surprise me too."_

_"I can make this all end, Will. Just tilt your head back, close your eyes, and wade in the quiet of the stream."_

_"Did you believe you could change me?"_

_"I already did."_

Hannibal sat beside the fine oak table, book slightly slanted in his now weak grasp, as he stared out at the rain of Paris. He could feel Bedelia's eyes burning onto him, but he said nothing. He instead resting his forehead against the cool grasp, and imagined he could feel the rain soothing him. "I miss him." He choked eventually.

Bedelia gave no indication that she'd even heard Hannibal till her reply a full minute later. "Why?"

He closed his eyes tightly. He liked Bedelia, but she was an awful therapist. Any respect he'd had for her dwindled away with every passing day. She knew nothing. What a question to ask, why did he miss Will? It should have been obvious. "I'm going back."

"No, you're not."

Laughable, how she thought she could boss his around. He stood, book slipping down onto the table, full height, full broadness, hair slicked back and she examined him curiously.

"I don't know why you brought me here, Hannibal."

"Frankly, neither do I."

...

...

...

Hannibal arrived back _home_ a few hours later, he was rather efficient at these things, and he headed straight for the grave yard, a reputable little thing behind the chapel, and he scanned the graves for Will's name. And with every passing headstone, he felt a surge of hope soar through his heart when Will's name wasn't there, and by the time he got to the end, he realised, he'd counted off Alana and Jack, but Will and Abigail weren't there. He knocked himself for allowing himself to hope, he had no idea what could have happened, perhaps due to the state of their bodies, they'd been cremated.

He headed for Will's home. He could still remember where it was as he glided through WolfTrap in his soundless car, parking a while away, and walking calmly. He stopped when he saw it, amidst isolation, surrounded by forest, light poured from each window and crevice, and there were no dogs outside on the quickly dampening evening. Hannibal approached, and with all the stealth of a tiger, looked through the open window, barely stifling a gasp at what he saw.

Will was sitting on an armchair in the corner of the room, dressed in navy blue pyjamas, eating soup out of a well-worn bowl, and Abigail sat on the edge of the sofa nearest to Will, legs curled up underneath her, and she too was in her pyjamas, wrapped with a blanket, and both looked incredibly cosy and comfortable, and the seven dogs that Hannibal counted were lying together on the floor, as the tv hummed quietly.

"What's in this?" Abigail asked, taking the spoon into her mouth, and Will half smiled

"Freddie."

"I figured, tastes bitter."

They both laughed.

Hannibal stared at what he'd almost destroyed, and felt a surge of regret at having tried to kill them at all. He must have made some sort of noise, but was too immersed in the picture in front of him to have realised it, but Abigail and Will's head's snapped up, and Will set his soup down, standing up gently so as not to disturb any of the dogs. "Hannibal," he called, smiling softly, and Hannibal had missed his eyes, and his face, and that messy stubble and tumbling hair that was so _Will._ "Come in, Hannibal, come in and have soup with your family."

"Please," Abigail whispered, and subconsciously rubbed a thumb over the scars on her neck. Hannibal turned to Will, and blinked back tears. He shook his head. Abigail choked a sound of disbelief and Will clenched his jaw.

"We love you, Hannibal. We forgive you- please, _please_ come inside." Will let a tear slip down his cheek and Hannibal fisted his trousers in his hands

"I almost ruined you-"

"But you didn't." Will swallowed thickly "Now get in here and make everything better."

The pictures the same, except that it's different. With Hannibal on the sofa, and Will tucked into his left, head resting on his shoulder, soft curls tickling Hannibal's strong jaw, as the doctors strong hand is resting, stroking affectionately on Will's thigh, just a little too high to be friendly. Abigail is asleep on his right, and he cards his fingers through his hair and sighs in contentment at Will's old tv, and whichever dog is snuggled into his ankles. "I love you," Hannibal whispered into Will's ear "And I don't deserve you."

Will kissed behind his ear, half asleep himself, "'love you," he slurred, and Hannibal smiled, closing his eyes, thoughts of Paris, and Bedelia gone. He had what he needed now, and would spend the rest of his life making It up to them.

Even though he was already forgiven.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment? Prompts for this couple?  
> x


End file.
